


The Time of The Woodcutter

by Glorfindel



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, First Age, Horror, Humour, M/M, Sexual Content, Third Age, Torture, Violence, timeslip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel and Maedhros are destined to fall in love. They were meant to fall in love during the First Age, which did not happen.</p><p>Glorfindel is now living in the Third Age – will he be alone forever or will one of them be able to cross time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time of The Woodcutter

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Keiliss
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the elves or their surroundings. I make no profit and have no intention of making any. Although the characters and settings belong to Tolkien this is my own representation of them, therefore any archiving without permission will not be tolerated.

**  
**

 

Everything around Melkor was iron. He loved the metal and delighted in it to an unnatural degree, according to Sauron’s way of thinking. Much of the decoration in his stronghold was made from it, to a point that one could become lost because one corridor looked much the same as another.

 

Melkor’s most trusted lieutenant strode through the corridors on the way to the throne room, ignoring the iron walls and ceilings adorned with iron tracery and iron flowers and taking pleasure in leaving a trail of muddy boot prints on the bright pink carpet. He was angry. Melkor had summoned him away from spying on the spawn of Fëanor in their Hithlum-based encampment, probably for no reason at all, just because he could.

 

Sauron’s servant, Thuringwethil, walked beside him in her preferred vampire form. “When we eventually find a place of our own, I hope it is not as dreary as this one.” She looked up at the ceiling and then she smiled at her lover. “You would not choose this as decor?”

 

“Never in a million ages,” Sauron agreed. He knew his lover.

 

“He doesn’t even have any windows. I hate coming here.”

 

“My dear, ears everywhere,” Sauron replied softly.

 

“If I catch them I will rip their throats out,” Thuringwethil replied, looking around. She batted her eyelashes and smiled. “I would even let you watch.”

 

Sauron laughed. “You will have us both killed. Now, no more until we are away from here.”

 

The door to Melkor’s throne room opened, guided by unseen hands. Melkor’s most trusted minions walked through, into the cavernous hall.

 

“Look, there is Maedhros in a cage,” Thuringwethil said happily. “It is where he belongs.”

 

“No doubt it is an iron cage,” Sauron muttered.

 

 The two minions walked to the other end of the throne room and bowed deeply before Melkor, who sat on an iron throne with one of his legs hung over one of the pink, padded arms. The three Silmarils in his iron crown were the only sparks of alternate colour in the sea of black, pink and grey.

 

“Master, you required our presence,” Sauron said, his head bowed.

 

Thuringwethil smiled prettily. “It is always a pleasure to be invited to your magnificent home, Master.”

 

“You are here to witness the punishment of Maedhros, the leader of the spawn of Fëanor, who have refused to abandon their silly, futile war and leave these lands in return for the life of their brother. One would think that the elves would value familial loyalty after all that I have visited upon them. Indeed, one would think that they would find it most precious.”

 

“The Valar damn you,” Maedhros yelled from his cage.

 

“He is not in a very good mood, is he?” Thuringwethil chuckled. She peered at Maedhros. “It is raining outside. At least you are dry.”

 

“Take no notice of him,” Melkor said with a smile. “He is of no consequence. Now look at this.” Melkor held up a metal wristband attached to a large spike. “Once this is in place no elf, maia or vala can cut through this ring or remove it from the rock in which it will be embedded. Maedhros will spend the rest of his eternity hanging from Thangorodhrim.”

 

Maedhros shouted curses for all he was worth, but with a wave of Sauron’s hand he was silenced. “Master, please continue.”

 

“Maedhros will hang forever from this iron ring, and his pleadings to be rescued will be heard wherever his brothers and their followers choose to live in Beleriand. His voice will haunt everything they do. Eventually, his begging to be rescued will be their downfall. I foresee all seven brothers hanging from the cliff face.”

 

Maedhros looked outraged. When he yelled no sound came from his mouth. He smashed his body against the bars in his anger.

 

Sauron laughed, as did Thuringwethil. Melkor stood up and descended the steps to his throne.

 

“Master, your brilliance never ceases to surprise and delight me,” Sauron fawned.

 

“Yes, the prospect of all seven brothers hanging there is too delightful,” Thuringwethil agreed. “I would even forego ripping their throats out with my teeth just to see it.”

 

Sauron and Thuringwethil accompanied Melkor and his retinue, along with a company of warriors in many hideous forms, to the cliff face of Thangorodhrim. After a short speech about how he would always be victorious, Melkor drove the iron spike into the cliff face in one mighty blow. Sauron opened the cage and Thuringwethil took hold of Maedhros, her long talons piercing his flesh. He cried out but no sound came from his mouth. The iron ring shut around his right wrist and he was left hanging there. As a final gesture, Sauron removed the spell binding Maedhros’ tongue before walking away to join the others.

 

Maedhros yelled for all he was worth but no help came, instead, he thought he heard laughter.

 

Over the next few days, Maedhros thought of fading. _How does one set their mind to fade_ , he wondered. Every moment was agony. Pins and needles assaulted his right arm and were particularly painful in the fingers of his right hand. A nodule within the iron ring pressed into his inner wrist, causing his thumb to pull in sharply under his palm, while the ring itself bit into his flesh.

 

 _Better that I die than to entice others to share my fate because they tried to rescue me_ , Maedhros thought and turned his face upwards to the starlit sky. The crows taunted him and pecked at his body and face, but he continued to look up. “Do not turn your face away forever,” he pleaded softly, before looking down again.

 

*****************

 

“When I lived in Gondolin, Yuletide was a time for reflection,” Glorfindel told Elrond. They sat at the table in the council chamber, which was being decorated with swags of holly and gold ribbons.

 

“Times are different now,” Elrond replied with a smile. “You will adapt in time. The world is a much happier and safer place now.”

 

“It seems to me that the spirit of Yule is somewhat lost," Glorfindel said. "I do not know if I can immerse myself in such unabandoned joy. In Gondolin, our merrymaking was tempered by the seriousness of our situation. We lived in captivity, and it was a captivity, even though it was of our own making."

 

"All the elves who participated in building Imladris have known hardship. They have lived through war and have lost those dear to them. Indeed, many have no family at all. Now they can enjoy safety and the freedom that comes with it. The Valar have blessed us with a safe haven and we are joyous because of it. Every single elf here is intimate with heartache, but now they have found joy and seized it with both hands; they are the ones who truly know its value. We have had enough of reflection; it is time to laugh again." Elrond was feeling quite irritated with Glorfindel.

 

The snow fell outside and the wind howled. The last sprig of holly was put in place. The elves decorating the room took one last look around and nodded in satisfaction. Every room in Imladris that was habitable had been decorated. The celebrations would start in the afternoon, but already the whole place was filled with merriment. A servant refilled Glorfindel and Elrond's glasses with miruvor.

 

Glorfindel drank of the life-sustaining spirit and felt its healing warmth spreading through his chest and around to his back. "I agree that it is good to celebrate and for everyone to have a wonderful time, especially as everyone has fought so hard over the ages for peace. I am not criticising anyone except asking for some time of reflection and solitude for myself. You must understand that I have come back into this life with nothing except my memories and they are precious to me. Even those who have been through hardship have some little keepsake to remind them of their past, but I have nothing. Therefore, ritual is probably more important to me because it is an act of remembrance, and that is all I have."

 

Elrond played with the stem of the glass, twirling it between his fingers but not enough so that the precious contents should spill. "I doubt that during this season you will achieve much solitude if you stay here. There is a cabin in the forest where I go when I need to think; you are welcome to use it, my friend. The woodcutter lives nearby and he supplies the cabin with logs, he has done so for years now. If you find the solitude too much for you, perhaps you could visit him? All I ask in return is that you spend Yule day with us before setting off."

 

Glorfindel agreed; he celebrated Yuletide day with the elves of Imladris and the next morning he left for the cabin in the woods.

 

After two hours of walking through ankle deep snow, Glorfindel reached the forest. Elrond's cabin was a further twenty minute walk along a rough track. Before entering, he walked around the perimeter. At the back of the cabin was the wood store along with an adjoining outhouse where, through a small air inlet, Glorfindel could see joints of meat and dead fowl hung from hooks. On shelves at the back sat muslin-wrapped cheeses, along with roasting pans, a cauldron and a large kettle.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Glorfindel turned quickly in surprise. “How did you manage that?”

 

“Manage what?” The elf looked perplexed. “I have brought the wood you will need. Lord Elrond sent an order for it.”

 

Even though the elf clearly was the woodcutter Elrond had told him about, Glorfindel was still suspicious. “How did you manage to approach so that I did not hear you?”

 

The elf shrugged. “No idea. Does it matter? I am a woodcutter delivering wood, that is all.”

 

“I apologise,” Glorfindel replied quickly. He had no wish to offend the elf. “I just pride myself on never being caught out.”

 

“Well, as I did not mean to catch you out then you weren’t really, were you?” The elf smiled and heaved a pile of chopped logs into the store.

 

Glorfindel found the compromise very acceptable. He looked at the elf, his well-formed body complimented with red-brown hair that was tied at the back with a strip of leather. The elf’s blue eyes twinkled above ruddy cheeks.

 

“My name is Glorfindel.”

 

“Yes, I know.” The elf grinned.

 

“May I have your name?” Glorfindel felt as though he was trying to pull teeth from a hen’s beak.

 

“I don’t use my name anymore. Not rightly sure what it could be after all this time. Call me the same as everybody else does – ‘woodcutter’.” The elf heaved a final load into the store. “Well, I am off.”

 

“Will you not stay and share a miruvor with me?” Glorfindel asked out of politeness; he hoped the elf would refuse. “It is Yule, after all.”

 

“It is the day after Yule,” the elf smiled. He mounted his horse. “I live up there in the next glade. Follow the path if you need anything.”

 

Glorfindel watched the elf ride away. The leather tie on his hair broke free and his red-brown hair fell about his shoulders, bouncing with each step his horse took. The woodcutter whistled a song that Glorfindel knew from old, causing a shadowed thought to cross his mind. He could not grasp the significance, so he let it go and walked to the front of the cabin

 

***********************

 

 

“Maedhros hangs by his wrist from an iron ring driven into the cliff face of Thangorodhrim. Melkor has used all his cunning and craft to fashion the device and I am defeated by it," Tulkas said loudly. “Yet not one of you will help him in his distress. Have we lost the ability to care what happens to the firstborn?"

 

"Maedhros swore his father's oath. He is not within our gaze anymore," Námo told the Vala of war.

 

The Valar sat around a circular table in one of the meeting rooms high up in Taniquetil. The cry of Eagles flying around the arch-windowed tower could not deter Tulkas from his purpose. He had requested that the Valar meet to discuss the treatment of Maedhros and he would do everything in his power to ensure it would happen. So far, they had been arguing for several hours.

 

"Do we not love the firstborn anymore?" Tulkas looked at each Vala in turn. "We have to take some of the blame for their actions. Was it not you, Aulë, who taught Mahtan how to craft metal and stone? That he would teach his son-in-law all he knew should have been obvious."

 

"How could any of us have known that Fëanor would be more gifted than Mahtan and make the Silmarils?" Aulë glared at Tulkas; he did not like being singled out, especially with the truth.

 

"It matters not," Manwë said. "Elves decide their own destiny. None of them had to swear the oath."

 

"Fëanor was a cunning and gifted orator. What elf could not have been swayed by his words? Where is the son who is not proud of his father? Of course they swore the oath; they were caught in the moment and had no time to reflect. They had no time to consider the gravity of the words they spoke." Tulkas tried as hard as he could, yet he knew he could not win. “They trusted him.”

 

"Their blind loyalty has been their downfall," Námo said, his face unsmiling. "Would that it were not so, but it is."

 

"So we leave him there for eternity, chained to a rock?" Tulkas asked. "If there is no rescue for Maedhros then hate for the Valar will enter the hearts of all elves, and even though they will not be Melkor's allies, he will have won. Be it on your heads if that happens."

 

Tulkas stormed out of the chamber and the Valar watched him go.

 

*************

 

Maedhros turned his face upward to the sky so he could catch the rain in his mouth. Even during a heavy storm, never enough fell to quench his thirst.

 

"Maedhros," Tulkas said softly. "I am back."

 

"Will they help me?" Maedhros’ voice, although hoarse and cracked, was still full of hope, which was all he had left.

 

"You are not within the gaze of the Valar anymore," Tulkas said softly. "But I promise I will keep you within my sight.”

 

If Maedhros could have wept, he would. "The crows peck at my face..."

 

"Maedhros, listen to me. I cannot physically take you away from your torment, but I can take your mind to happier places, and I will do that for you."

 

"Anything..."

 

"It will only be for a few days a year. It is all I can do." Tulkas wondered whether to tell Maedhros that it would be enough to stop him fading but decided against it.

 

Maedhros looked at Tulkas and nodded.

 

**********

 

Glorfindel sat watching the fire. He sipped a glass of hot, spiced wine and ate one of the cakes included in a hamper that had been left outside his door shortly after his arrival. He knew it was a gift from Elrond and already the boot tracks leading away from the cabin were covered by the falling snow.

 

All was peaceful. The occasional patter of snow against the windowpane and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds that Glorfindel could hear. He treasured his solitude and reflected that maybe living a second life was not so bad after all.

 

"What the..." Glorfindel started.

 

The movement had begun in his peripheral vision. The ghostly form of an elven warrior from ancient times past slowly appeared, several inches above the floor.  The flowing red hair and determined look were familiar to him.

 

"How can this be?" Glorfindel asked as the apparition took solid form and shape.

 

"I am Maedhros..."

 

"I know who you are," Glorfindel said quickly in Quenya, the language of the vision. "You are a ghost."

 

"I'm not a ghost. Tulkas sent me here so that I could have some respite from the punishment Melkor will make me endure for the rest of my eternity. While I am here, I am also suspended by my wrist from a metal ring that not even the Valar can break. Glorfindel, do not turn me away; we knew each other as elflings." Maedhros held his right arm, and as his feet touched the floor, he fell forward.

 

"Careful," Glorfindel said as he caught Maedhros. "You do not want to hurt yourself."

 

It was fortunate for Maedhros that he appeared in front of Glorfindel as he saw himself and not as he truly looked. Had he appeared to Glorfindel in that form, the purpose would have been lost. Love would keep the hope alive in Maedhros’ heart; but that could not happen if Glorfindel looked after him as an invalid. Tulkas had given Maedhros a reason to live that was apart from the oath, and hoped that alone would see him through.

 

Glorfindel knew the course of Maedhros’ life from the histories kept in the libraries of the Last Homely House. He wondered what he should tell if he was asked about the past. Tulkas stood invisible beside them watching the meeting and caught Glorfindel’s thoughts. With a wave of his hand, the Vala caused a veil to fall over his mind.

 

“It feels good to stand again,” Maedhros said and grinned as he was guided down onto the settee. “I was losing faith, and yet, here I am, even if it is only for a short while.”

 

Glorfindel handed a glass of hot, spiced wine to Maedhros who drank it greedily as if a great thirst was upon him. He drank several glasses of water before sitting down to sip a second glass of hot wine.

 

Maedhros’ face flushed in the heat of the fire, and warmth spread through his body. “Lord Tulkas has blessed me indeed. I was holding my face to the sky to catch raindrops.”

 

A shaft of compassion shot through Glorfindel’s heart. “Eat and drink as much as you like. Let these few days be a joyous memory for when you feel you cannot carry on.”

 

A slow smile spread over Maedhros’ face and he sighed with pleasure. He turned to Glorfindel. “Where are we?”

 

This was a question that was easy to answer. “We are in Imladris; a realm given by the Valar to those who are dispossessed and seek refuge. We are in the Third Age, many thousands of years forward of the age you currently live in.”

 

“I have travelled forward in time?” Maedhros took a sip of his wine.

 

Glorfindel looked into the sapphire eyes and thought for a fleeting moment that he saw the elfling he had known when young. Their destinies had been different but he had followed Fëanor just as Maedhros did; however, he had not sworn the oath and he still wondered why it was that he had not done so.

 

“It seems you have,” Glorfindel replied as he poured more wine into their glasses.

 

“If I am in the future, then maybe you know what happens to me in the past,” Maedhros said carefully.

 

“I have no idea,” Glorfindel replied. “I died in Gondolin and was reborn a few months ago. Those who are escaping their past tend not to talk about it. Imladris is filled with elves who are of that mind.”

 

“You have not been able to find out about events that happened while you were dead?”

 

“I have not had time, nor the inclination. I was just glad to be alive again.” Glorfindel smiled. It was only a slight lie, and he could not seem to remember the finer details. He looked at Maedhros, noticing how the firelight lit up his red-brown hair. “I am sure that Lord Tulkas meant you to enjoy your time with me and not reflect on events of the past.”

 

Maedhros looked into Glorfindel’s deep blue eyes and smiled. “I could sit here forever. There are no cares here and I feel so light, as if a burden has been lifted from me. It is not easy leading a band of brothers who are just as argumentative as one’s self.” He smiled and Glorfindel felt the wellspring of desire bursting forth from within.

 

Maedhros leant into the hand that caressed his cheek. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him that way. The simple gesture made his heart ache with the pain of knowing what his reality really consisted of.  “It is snowing and we are so warm,” he whispered.

 

Glorfindel leaned forward and touched his lips to Maedhros’ own. Moving slightly to the side, he kissed gently, fearing to give in to his lust too quickly lest Maedhros pulled back. With one who had been so cruelly treated, any roughness, unless invited, could be misunderstood.

 

Maedhros pushed his fingers through Glorfindel’s hair, resting them against the back of his head, against the scalp, as he increased the depth of the kiss. His tongue pushed tentatively into Glorfindel’s mouth and his joy was complete. Warmth spread through his being as he was pulled closer by arms just as powerful as his own.

 

Tulkas smiled. It was time for him to go.

 

Glorfindel did not get the solitude or the reflection that he sought; instead, he fell in love. On the morning of the fourth day together he declared his adoration.

 

“If only we could be together forever,” Maedhros sighed. “I fear that when I go back this will be naught but a memory, one that I long to repeat for the rest of my life. My heart is breaking because I love you with the same intensity that you love me.” He laughed bitterly. “I never thought I would speak words of love to anyone. My father’s oath consumed my heart, but here it seems not to exist, as if I am free of it. Instead, there dwells a love across the ages that can never last because we live in different times. I would that my heart had never known you because of the impossibility of our position, and yet I would still want the little we have.”

 

“Know in your heart that I will always love you,” Glorfindel said softly. “You are most precious to me and I would have no other. Even though we exist in different ages, I am convinced that one day we will be together. I refuse to believe that Tulkas has no aim in mind.” He kissed the one he loved and threw back the blankets. “Stay there; we will eat breakfast in bed.”

 

Maedhros settled down happily and closed his eyes. They could feed each other pancakes covered in syrup and it would all end up in messy sex. He could not wait.

 

There was a knock at the door. Glorfindel answered it, wearing only his leggings.

 

“I have just delivered some more logs,” the woodcutter said. “You were running empty.”

 

 “How did you hurt your wrist?”

 

“Chopping wood,” the elf replied. He heaved another load of wood into the store. He looked at the untidy and somewhat dirty bandage. “It will be healed by tomorrow.” He gave Glorfindel an odd look. “See you next year. I know you will be here.”

 

“Thank you,” Glorfindel replied. “I believe I might.”

 

“You will,” the woodcutter replied without any trace of humour before riding away. Then he rode off whistling his usual tune, the one that Glorfindel had heard long ago but could not place.

 

Glorfindel thought the woodcutter even odder than he had before but said nothing more. He shut the door and made two plates of pancakes with syrup.

 

"I know how much you like pancakes," he called as he walked into the bedroom. The bed was empty. "Where are you?"

 

Maedhros was gone. Even though Glorfindel looked for him he knew he was not in the cabin or even outside; he knew he was back on the cliff face and his heart grieved. If a thought could be sent back in time across thousands of years, Maedhros would have heard Glorfindel swearing upon his own life that he would be back next Yule. But a thought cannot be sent in such a way. It mattered not. Maedhros hung from the cliff face looking up at the starlit sky. He smiled because love existed in his heart and it had been real. He could bear anything now that he had hope.

 

**************

 

 

One year later Glorfindel walked to the cabin in the Forest. The day before, Imladris had celebrated Yule with much frivolity and abandon. The previous year Glorfindel had not understood their need to do so while abandoning their need for solitude and reflection. After his time with Maedhros, he felt he understood the residents a little bit more. Just as love is where you can find it, so is joy.

 

The woodcutter was already loading logs into the outside store behind the cabin. He waved to Glorfindel. "There will be heavy snow soon. Look at the clouds."

 

Glorfindel looked up at the sky. "Those are snow clouds. Maybe we will be snowed in."

 

"Not me," the woodcutter chuckled. "I clear the paths several times a day during heavy snow. Well, if you need anything, my cabin is in the next glade." He mounted his horse. "Maybe I will see you in a few days. Enjoy your stay. Farewell." With that, he rode away, remaining an enigma in Glorfindel's mind.

 

The cabin was dim inside and freezing cold. After lighting a few candles, Glorfindel set to work on building a fire. He hoped with all his heart and being that Maedhros would visit again. _We only spent four days together, how can I miss him so much that my heart wells in my chest whenever I think of him_ , he thought. In reality, not a day had passed in the last year where Glorfindel had not thought of the four special days he spent in the cabin the previous Yule.

 

As Glorfindel set the logs over the kindling, he felt two arms encircle his chest and a heavy warmth behind him.

 

"I am back," Maedhros whispered in his ear. "You kept me alive."

 

Glorfindel turned and hugged Maedhros tightly, laughing with relief and happiness. "I do not know what I would had done if you had not come back. I love you so much. My heart knows joy again because you are here."

 

Maedhros weaved his hand under Glorfindel's shirt and stroked across the heavy muscles of his back. "Let us complete our joy and renew our love."

 

Maedhros and Glorfindel spent four days together. On the morning of the fifth day, Glorfindel awoke to find that his lover was not there.

 

 _I did not get the chance to say goodbye and neither did he,_ Glorfindel thought. _Why is life so difficult?_

 

The fire in the main room was dead. Glorfindel went to the wood store even though he knew there would be hardly any logs there. He was wrong. At one point during the early morning, the woodcutter had made a delivery. Glorfindel sighed, took some logs and went back inside the cabin so he could light the fire and prepare to leave.

 

As he walked from the cabin he saw the woodcutter clearing the path. "You have hurt your wrist again."

 

The woodcutter looked at the untidy bandage around his right wrist. He nodded, "Yes,oddthat, isn't it? I don't normally slip."

 

“See you next year,” Glorfindel said and walked down the path towards home.

 

"Yes, you will," the woodcutter replied. He carried on shovelling snow.

 

****************

 

Maedhros wondered if he had been forgotten. Lately, not even the crows could be bothered with him anymore. In itself that was not a bad thing, it meant he could sleep. The pain was unbearable, but occasionally exhaustion overtook him and he would have a brief respite from his misery.

 

On one such occasion, Maedhros awoke, the pain breaking through his slumber. He looked up at the sky as he always did and wondered at what he saw. The starlit sky was fading and a golden light peeped over the horizon, illuminating the undersides of the clouds with shades of pink and gold. For the first time, Maedhros saw his surroundings in their true colours.

 

 _Now more than ever I will think of Glorfindel, because this sky is also the one he lives under_ , Maedhros thought, _and yet now the pain is increased in my heart to an unbearable level._

 

He wondered at the events that must have happened for there to be such a radical change in the sky. "A new dawn is upon us. A new age. The Valar have blessed us with light that will expose the hiding places of Melkor. There is nowhere for him to hide now," Maedhros shouted loudly, his voice echoing far and wide. The crows flew at him and he fended them away with his free arm while loudly singing songs of defiance and liberation.

 

**********

 

For the next four years, Glorfindel spent four days after Yule with Maedhros. He kept his word that he would not hold any other in his heart and did so willingly.

 

"It seems to me that you only come alive at Yule," Elrond said to him on Yule Day. "It is as though you are marking time the rest of the year."

 

"You are not the first to say that," Glorfindel replied. “I have no explanation to give for why that might be.”

 

“Maybe you have a secret lover,” Elrond laughed, half wondering if he had hit upon the truth. “I hear the woodcutter is more than passing fair in body as well as face.”

 

“Ah, Elrond, you old romantic. It is hard to get two words out of him. When I asked his name he told me to call him woodcutter. I must admit, I know nothing about him except that he lives in the next glade from your cabin.”

 

“Have you ever been there?”

 

“I have had no reason to,” Glorfindel replied. “It is most odd though. Whenever I arrive, he is there delivering logs and then he makes another delivery the day I leave. Yet, I know that the following day there will be no logs in the store and he will deliver more, so who is using the logs that I leave behind? You have said yourself that you have not been to the cabin for several years. Does anyone else go there?”

 

“Not that I know of,” Elrond replied. “Maybe the woodcutter takes them back when the winter gets hard.”

 

“Maybe,” Glorfindel agreed. He had other questions but kept them to himself. After his reunion with Maedhros he could find out the answers to his questions. His lover was more important than some woodcutter, especially one who enjoyed being so inscrutable.

 

**********

 

Glorfindel reached the log cabin. The woodcutter was there already, heaving cut logs into the store.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning," Glorfindel replied. He dreaded seeing the woodcutter elf because he seemed to mark the coming and going of his lover.

 

"Nearly done," the woodcutter elf said.

 

"See you in a few days time,” Glorfindel said as he walked away.

 

"Maybe even sooner," the woodcutter replied.

 

"What do you mean by that?" Glorfindel asked quickly.

 

"Nothing," the woodcutter replied. He shrugged. "Just, how quickly will you use the wood?"

 

"How is it that you always stock the outhouse with logs? No one uses the cabin, and yet when I come back the stores are empty?" Glorfindel asked.

 

The woodcutter laughed. "Perhaps the woodland animals like to keep warm as well." He heaved the last of the logs into the store. "Remember, if you need anything my cabin is up there in the next glade."

 

"I doubt I will need anything," Glorfindel replied. "Thank you anyway," he added to be polite.

 

The woodcutter said nothing. He winked at Glorfindel and rode away on his horse.

 

The snow fell, but it did every winter. The air smelt cold and nothing stirred. The heavy silence blanketed the forest. Glorfindel went into the cabin and lit a candle. Even though it was still light outside, the windows to the cabin were small.

 

"Glorfindel," Maedhros said as he materialised. "I am back. I have missed you so much."

 

They ran into each other's arms, holding on tightly as if bracing themselves to be torn apart by some unseen force.

 

“Let us build a fire and put some stew on to cook. I need to drink; I am so thirsty,” Maedhros said as he picked up the water bucket. “I think I could drink the well dry.”

 

Glorfindel had learnt years before that Maedhros often needed to sate his thirst and raging hunger before he could do anything else. Not eating for a year and catching raindrops in his open mouth would do that to any elf, he supposed.

 

“I will come with you,” Glorfindel said and wrapped a fur cloak around Maedhros’ shoulders. “A Yule present for you. The clasp is in the design of the golden flower of Gondolin.”

 

“One day, I hope to have a long past,” Maedhros smiled.

 

“Every time I tried to research your past it is as though a veil falls over my mind,” Glorfindel smiled. "I am sure you do have a past though."

 

Maedhros smiled. "Let's go get some water."

 

They trooped outside to the well. Maedhros was so thirsty that he drank straight from the bucket. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and did not see the snowball that Glorfindel threw at him until it hit his cheek.

 

Maedhros scooped up enough snow for two snowballs and threw them quickly in succession at Glorfindel, who ducked. He picked up some more snow, dodging two snowballs that came his way, and ran after Glorfindel who had already disappeared around the side of the cabin.

 

As Maedhros turned the corner, he was met by a flurry of snowballs. He ran forward and jumped on Glorfindel so that they both fell forward onto the ground. He picked up big clods of snow, stuffing them down Glorfindel’s neck, and ground the snow into his back.

 

Glorfindel managed to flip Maedhros over onto his back. He kissed his lover while grabbing a handful of snow and pushing it down his leggings.

 

"I think my balls have shot up into my belly," Maedhros squealed with a teasing look and a lick of the lips. "I am sure it is too cold for them to come back down again."

 

Glorfindel smiled. "Let's build a fire and put the food on to cook. Then we can...”

 

Maedhros cut him short with a kiss. “Last one in is the bottom,” he laughed and ran.

 

Glorfindel followed Maedhros into the cabin. “Not fair, I always bottom,” he shouted, not really minding at all. He looked around. “Maedhros? Maedhros, where are you?” He ran outside again and thought he spied the woodcutter up the path.

 

“Hey! Woodcutter!”

 

The woodcutter moved away silently as if he could not hear Glorfindel calling to him. His cabin was in the next glade. Glorfindel was in two minds, perhaps Maedhros had been hiding as part of a game, but he did not feel it was so. Did his glimpse of the woodcutter mean their time had been cut short?

 

Glorfindel returned to his cabin and after a frenzied last look around inside and out, he ran up the path to the next glade. The woodcutter’s house was in darkness. No matter how hard he hammered on the door, no answer came, and yet he had seen him just before, walking in that direction.

 

After running quickly around the cabin to see if he could find another way in, Glorfindel looked through the glass window into the room. He could just make out a form in the twilight interior. “Open up!” Glorfindel slammed his hand against the pane and yet the woodcutter did not stir.

 

Inside the room, a small movement caught Glorfindel’s eye. The woodcutter’s arm hung from the side of the chair, unmoving and limp. A drip fell from the middle finger tip to a small puddle of dark liquid on the floor. He looked as if he could be asleep, but he could equally be unconscious or dead.

 

 _What to do?_ Glorfindel asked himself. _Do I tend to the woodcutter, for surely he is hurt, or do I keep hunting for Maedhros?_

 

After a few deep breaths, Glorfindel looked towards the path he had just followed and could not believe his eyes. In between the trees, Maedhros hung suspended in the air by his right wrist, an iron ring biting into the flesh and his thumb drawn sharply inward under his palm.

 

“Maedhros,” Glorfindel shouted, his eyes wild with fear and a sick feeling in his chest; he knew deep down that both of them had crossed the passages of time and would never do so again. “Maedhros, stay. Do not leave me.” His heart wrung in agony to see his lover how he actually was and he knew he was being selfish asking Maedhros to bear his torture so he could grasp the tenuous thread of their relationship and maybe save it, if only for four days a year. Perhaps if the Valar heard his pleadings they would look with compassion upon them both, or perhaps not. The firm muscles were wasted away and the once silky smooth skin, erupting with festering sores and stretched tight across the skeletal body. The bones under the translucent skin shone white and his abdomen was a deep, starving hollow. Maedhros’ sparse hair was now colourless and his hollow eyes were dulled with an acceptance of the death that must surely come. But, Glorfindel loved him more because of his agony and felt the sharp sting of tears as they welled up and spilt over his lower lids. He wiped them away furiously, not wanting to blur his last glimpse of the one he loved so much. “Don’t leave me.”

 

Maedhros’ emaciated face looked down upon his lover and yet he seemed not to see him. His voice croaked a song of defiance, one that Glorfindel had heard before. _The woodcutter_ , he thought.

 

“No, cousin. The Valar have turned their face away from me. Do not share my fate by trying to rescue me,” Maedhros rasped, looking down. “Such a sheer face cannot be climbed by any being alive. I beg you, my cousin, release me forever. Aim your bow at my heart...Your arrow is swift and will end my agony...”

 

Then Glorfindel heard the words from the unseen Fingon. “O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!”

 

 _Maedhros does not know I am here_ , Glorfindel thought as he watched history being played out before him. _How can I see him without him seeing me?_

 

The beating of Thorondor’s invisible wings blew the snow from the trees and Glorfindel fell flat on the ground driven down by the sheer force of air pressure. He looked up and could see nothing except Maedhros’ face contorted in agony. His yells of pain and pleadings to die rang throughout the valley and Glorfindel wondered if they could be heard in the Last Homely House itself. “Leave him alone,” Glorfindel shouted at a being unseen. “You are hurting him. Break the rock instead.” He wondered if his voice could be heard and suspected that his pleadings were to no avail. “You are hurting him,” Glorfindel shouted one last time, knowing in his heart the futility of his protestation. His heart pounded in terror, for surely this would be the moment where he would be alone forever, yet it was better that Maedhros die than to endure more agony.

 

The sharp metallic sound of steel against rock and a final agonised cry as Fingon solved the problem of rescuing Maedhros, rang through Glorfindel’s being and tore his heart with grief. He yelled his distress to the skies and then fell sobbing loudly. He could not see his lover anymore; with the final cut the vision had faded into nothing.

 

How could life be the same now that Glorfindel had nothing to look forward to? He still felt a stranger in time and place, though not so much as when he first arrived in his new life. He sat on the ground and looked up where Maedhros had appeared, hoping to see one last sign. Pain radiated inside his chest, his heart bursting with grief and his breathing ragged. Perhaps it had never happened. Maybe if he went back to the cabin, Maedhros would be there.

 

Glorfindel stood up and turned around; perhaps he should see if the woodcutter was all right before he went back to the cabin. He knew in his heart that Maedhros and he would not be meeting again. The memory of the histories of the elves, which eluded him every time he was with Maedhros, cleared in his mind and he knew that their paths were different then and forever. _At least he had some respite from his agony_ , Glorfindel thought, _and I was glad to give it to him_.

 

The door to the cabin was slightly ajar. For a fleeting moment Glorfindel wondered if the woodcutter had left, but from within he could hear the whistled tune, the song of defiance. This was too much.

 

“Where are you?” Glorfindel demanded. “How dare you taunt me any longer.”

 

The woodcutter looked up at Glorfindel from his chair and stopped whistling. He held his wrist up. “Look, it is not as hurt as the other times you saw it.”

 

“I do not care about your wrist,” Glorfindel roared at the woodcutter as if he were a simpleton.

 

The woodcutter did not rise to meet Glorfindel’s anger and kept his voice level. “Well you should. It is a mark of my love for you. Have you not guessed who I am yet?”

 

Glorfindel stopped short. “What?”

 

“Lord Tulkas said it was like exchanging one mind for another. I do not know how I bore it for seven years the first time I hung from the cliff face. All I knew was that I had to do it because I wanted you in this life. I had to make sure that you fell in love with me in my first age form so you could love me in this age as well. The seed of love that should have been sown in the past was lost, but now everything has been put right. My mind swapped places for four days a year with the one whom I used to be and it was worth the agony to make possible what should have happened so long ago.” The woodcutter looked at Glorfindel. “I never want to lose the memory of those few precious years. I promised that you were mine forever and so it is.”

 

“You talk in riddles,” Glorfindel shouted and pushed the woodcutter away from him. “Only Maedhros resides in my heart, not you.”

 

The woodcutter stood up and opened both arms before him. As he did so, the inside of the cabin changed. Above a large stone fireplace, the crest of the House of Fëanor hung. Rich furnishings of leather and velvet filled the room. On the mantle sat a gold clasp in the style of the golden flower of Gondolin.  Tapestries hung from the walls and fur rugs lay on the stone floor. The woodcutter was one no longer; he sang the words of the defiant tune as Tulkas removed the scales from Glorfindel’s eyes, and it was as though colour had come back into his life and he was seeing it for the very first time. Neither could see the Vala, but that is the way he meant it to be.

 

“Welcome to my home,” Maedhros smiled. “From the outside it looks like a cabin...”

 

“You are back,” Glorfindel gasped. “But, when you were the woodcutter you did not look like Maedhros.”

 

“The Valar are capable of anything,” Maedhros replied. “I could not claim you as mine when you were re-embodied because I was not in your heart. Lord Eru’s prophecy says that my soul mate would fall in love with me in my first life. You died in the fall of Gondolin, so Tulkas had to instil you in my heart, and I in yours, in another way.” Maedhros stroked Glorfindel’s cheek and kissed his lips. “It was worth it.”

 

“Our love is an epic saga it seems,” Glorfindel smiled. He held onto Maedhros tightly lest he should leave him again. “I love you so much. My heart felt as though it would die when I saw you hanging from the rock.”

 

“I did not want to leave the rock because I knew I would never see you again, and so I asked to die so that I knew no more.”

 

“Why did you keep asking me to call if I needed anything, when you knew you would not be here in mind?” Glorfindel asked.

 

“I knew you would not come,” Maedhros shrugged. “Why would you when you had a first age king in your bed?”

 

“To me you will always be a first age king,” Glorfindel replied and kissed Maedhros, his tongue slipping between his lips.

 

“It is a simpler life, being a woodcutter,” Maedhros observed after the kiss broke. “Safer as well. I expect there are some very old elves with long memories living nearby.”

 

Glorfindel wound red hair around his hand and pulled Maedhros close, kissing him hard and revelling in Maedhros’ hands sliding down the front of his leggings. The hand cupped his balls then stroked full length along his hardness.

 

“Clothes off,” Maedhros ordered. “I have the oil ready.” He smiled. How beautiful Glorfindel looked; his long blond hair falling loose down to just past his shoulders and his sublime body. Maedhros licked his lips. “You’ll do,” he said huskily.”Over there on the bed.”

 

Glorfindel said nothing. He walked across to the bed and sat on the edge. “Come here.”

 

Maedhros stood in front of his lover and sighed with delight as Glorfindel’s tongue stroked the length of his hardness before kissing the slit at the top. He was engulfed in warmth, letting out a loud sigh of appreciation as his fingers kneaded Glorfindel’s shoulders. It was exactly how he remembered it.

 

It was all too much, too delicious by far. One warm hand held his balls while the wet tongue and lips pumped up and down. The tension built up until Maedhros came in great spurts over his lover’s face.

 

They lay side by side in each other’s arms kissing hungrily, rolling flesh between teeth and exploring each other with firm hands. There was nothing gentle or refined in their coupling, they rutted like animals because that is how warriors who have longed in their hearts for each other make love. After the first flush of sating animal instincts, they could be more leisurely with each other.

 

Maedhros lay on top of Glorfindel, his cock buried deep within him, moving slightly up and down. With each downward push, Glorfindel sighed happily as his inner source of pleasure was stroked.

 

“Meleth, we could spend all night doing this,” Maedhros said softly.

 

There is nowhere else I would rather be or nothing else I would rather do,” Glorfindel said happily.

 

“Nor me” Maedhros agreed and pushed in again.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
